Illusive Transgressions
by It'sShepard'sGalaxy
Summary: A man is measured by more than the sins of his father. Unless you had my father. I write this because I want you to understand. I'm writing this because you deserve to know who I am. I'm writing this because you saved me. My name is Alexander Harper. I am the son of The Illusive Man and I'm writing this... Because I love you. I love you Shepard. Only you.
1. Name

**_A/N Hello people of the internet. I am writing this fanfic as an errant thought. If you enjoy it, I'd appreciate responses and feedback._**

**_Thanks, I hope you enjoy_**

* * *

I wonder sometimes, what you thought when you first heard of me.

Did you question what they told you? Did you assume they were right?

Did they give you my profile, the history of all my perceived wrongs.

Full of all my actual sins.

Did you shudder when you read it?

Or was it just expected. From the son of my father.

I remember the first day I saw you.

Of course, infamous as you are I had already SEEN you.

But this was the first day I really saw who you really were.

I was inhabiting my seventh level of hell. The deep one, that no one except you has ever seen. The one only you can get me out of. I was running from my demons. Using the fail-safe method of drowning them in alcohol.

Maybe next time I should light them on fire.

A thought for the future.

The dingy corner of the dingy corner has always been my safe place. I can hide and blur with the grime on the walls.

Astromo. The home planet of alien dropouts. The home of lowlifes who don;s have the balls to handle Omega. The arseholes on this arse end of the galaxy stayed here during The Reaper War. Apathy saving their lives in this case.

The Reapers weren't bombing under-evolved planets after all.

Altogether, the perfect spot to assimilate with my fellow bastards.

You have to understand, these people weren't my friends, but they weren't my enemies. The devolved cretins of that rock were merely comforting. A lack of a feeling.

The krogan who sat next to me at the bar were I basically lived, didn't give a shit about me.

There was no fucking expectations at all.

The bottle was my therapy. My toxic, beautiful therapy.

I'm telling you this, not to invoke pity, I merely wish to be honest. Honest for you, and for her. So you understand.

Understand me.

Maybe I'm just trying to fake a relationship with you to make my life feel less pathetic.

Because you, your soul and your thoughts. They soothe my scars and still my blood.

And you may not believe me, God knows I've given you plenty of reason to doubt, but I get you.

Your craving for someone, anyone, to understand you. But at the same time, that fear you have, that amongst all the bullshit and all the shitheads you know who will never get you, there might actually be one who does.

And then rejects you totally.

Would I let myself stop worrying I wonder? If this was our final day alive, and whatever the next day brought didn't matter because we'd be fucking dead.

And that's were the uncertainty lies.

Is whatever we have between us nothing but a convenient lie?

Even though you are so addictive to me.

And all this shit is fucking with my head.

Because there is no shame in you, cause your fucking perfect.

I knew that, the moment I laid my eyes on you.

The REAL fucking you.

The vid screen in the top corner of the packed and noisy club had crackled to life. For the first time in for months, the fucking thing got a bloody feed.

Needless to say, pins could be heard dropping.

A bulletin was flashing on the screen.

**WE WON! COMMANDER SHEPARD SAVES US ALL!**

But my fellow drunks didn't cheer for the victory. An audible sigh of despair almost ran through the room. The very inevitability had freed us you see. It gave our purposeless existences reason. We were given a deadline and the subtle nod that if we were going to fuck up ourselves, it might as well be now. We were all supposed to end up dead and for once their lives, my life, actually made sense.

Then you, the galactic hero, stopped the inevitable.

And in that moment, I hated you more than I hate my father.

But then I saw you.

A single photo. A still of your brittle, bruised and near dead body. Lying in a hospital somewhere.

And life suddenly felt clear.

You were nothing like what my father had told me.

I didn't any misguided idealism on your face. Your brow wasn't weighed down by your allegiance to aliens.

I didn't see the evil I had been trained to see.

My father had always told me that humans who betrayed Cerberus, by extension humanity, only deserved one thing.

A bullet between the eyes.

And you.

Commander Shepard.

You were the biggest traitor of them all.

You asked me once, what I felt when I found out my father was dead.

Too busy to notice I had said.

Truthfully, my father is never dead. He exists within the corners of my mind. Lurking ever more, with any sent of bourbon or cigarettes triggering his brow to lift as he examines me. A silhouette surrounded in suspended light and dark.

An Illusive Man to everyone, but none more so than me.

His son.

He didn't think much of you towards the end of his delusional fantasies and his descriptions of you... Make me want to resurrect and kill him again.

But still, I never expected you to be so human.

So... perfect.

The day I first saw you...saw your pain, was the start of the end of us both I think.

It was two weeks after the first vid feed had come through. Two soldiers, Alliance, in full uniform walked in the door. They gazed around the bar; pinpointing the barkeep in their harsh gazes. Striding towards him, one of them raised a picture on their omni-tool and near shoved it under the man's face.

'Have you seen this man?'

The keep's gaze flicked to me for a second and the officers followed his line of sight.

For a second the stare off lasted before I biotically burst out of my chair charging out of the front door upturning tables and chairs in my wake.

Only to find myself surrounded by a line of guns pointed at my head.

The air thickened with the tension, and I realised I was still holding a tequila bottle in my hand. The armour joints on the soldier's limbs barely creaked as they lined me up.

The hatred had rolled off them in tidal waves.

After a few seconds that lasted a lifetime a woman stepped forward clad in a skin tight catsuit.

I recognized her straight away.

It was Miranda Lawson, your favourite XO.

And at the time my least favourite fan.

'Get on your knees'

I, of all things, laughed at her grim expression.

'And why' I chuckled 'Would I do that?'

She scowled at me, I'll remember that look forever, and cocked her gun at my head.

'You are under arrest for terrorist activity.'

I gasped at her serious tone.

I didn't understand why they were coming after me. My father was the leader of Cerberus.

I didn't understand, how they knew who I was.

My father made sure that I didn't exist.

I cocked my head at her and grinned slyly.

'You have the wrong man.'

She just contemplated me in silence before she replied.

'Your father is dead. The Council has access to all of Cerberus' records. They know who you are and what you've done.'

My father was dead. They knew who I was?

They knew... Everything?

And at the time, I had a bit of an anger management problem.

A red haze clouded my sight.

My father had fucked me over once again.

My biotics rolled off me, shaking the men who were formed around me.

Miranda tried to reach for me, but I was beyond reasoning.

I... Exploded the air around me.

The skycars, the men, Miranda, the buildings... They all flattened and flew away from me.

And suddenly I was standing in my own, empty and silent crater.

And I did what I always did.

I ran.

I ran from the screaming, the crying, the sirens.

A ran from the illusive ghost on my heels.

I ran towards you.

Later that night, as I sat hunched in the pouring rain waiting to jump on the back of a cargo ship to Omega the only thing I could imagine was what your eyes looked like.

And they how they would burn through my soul.

I am the son of the Illusive Man.

My name is Alex Harper.

And I love you Commander Shepard.

* * *

**_A/N I would love reviews, so please feel free!_**


	2. Defender

_**A/N I am really happy with the feedback guys! I'm glad you like it. Be warned though, this chapter contains AN EXTREMELY VIOLENT DEATH SCENE. **_

_**You have been warned.**_

* * *

I have a memory from when I was a kid, one of those that you don't know to be real or not.

I was sitting in the back of a relic ground car. We were driving along one of the old roads. The ones that predated the Second Cold War. The sun was glaring down on me as I gazed up into the clear blue sky. I turned my head and saw my father driving the car. I remember his arms being smooth and tanned, and on the corner of his elbow was a tattoo.

I can't remember what it looked like, because I never saw it after that day, but I think it was a vine. I wonder why a vine? Was it even really there? Did I imagine it completely.

His face was unlined. His laugh rang around the interior of the car and a cigarette was in his hand, but the smoke and the laugh was ripped out of the convertible by the wind.

I think that's the only time I remember him smiling. Not a plotting, I won my mind game smile, but a real full blown, pearly white grin.

He was smiling at my mother.

I've never told you about Mum.

She was... So beautiful.

Her hair flowed behind her like a golden halo, she always wore it down. I've been told I have her eyes. But I could never see the ice in her blue depths that seems to permanently in mine.

She was a space hitch hiker. She had grown up on Shanxi believe it or not, but always dreamed of travelling the stars. She left home at fifteen, was took all her mothers jewellery and never looked back. It was when she came to earth for the first time that she met my father.

Apparently it was entirely coincidental. He was coming back from work, whatever the fuck that was before he wrote his manifesto, when he knocked her down with his bike.

And evidently, after offering her a place to stay, knocked her up with me.

My father adored Mum. She was wild and free and innocent. She loved her life, she loved him and she loved the stars. That's why he let her keep me. The second I was born, I just became competition for her affection. And that's why the memory I have is so strange. I can't remember any other time in my life, when my father allowed me to go on a holiday with Mum and him. When he was back from whatever he did for months at a time, he wanted to see her as much as possible and me as little. So I was often left in day-care. The best parts of those days was when Mum was waiting for me with my jacket and backpack ready to go. And for five minutes, we got to spend time alone with each other without his annoyed glance shooting my way.

So trust me when I say, I really have no idea if what I remember in the car that day is true, or just a hopeful dream.

My father, still laughing at whatever Mum said, turned to me with his smile.

He smiled at me.

And said quite simply still grinning.

'I think we did well with this one Claire.'

* * *

Did I ever tell you that my Mum named me after Alexander the Great? You might not even know who he is.

He was the Conqueror and king of Macedonia. During his leadership, he united the Greek city-states and led the Corinthian League. He also became the king of Persia, Babylon and Asia, and created Macedonian colonies in the region. While considering the conquests of Carthage and Rome, Alexander died of malaria in Babylon, Persia.

Alexander in Ancient Greek literally means; defender of mankind.

Yeah, apparently my parents had a thing for Greek names.

It is slightly ironic though don't you think, that your Commander Shepard.

And I'm called The Defender of Mankind.

* * *

I hid on the back of cargo ship, on my way of the rock that I had been for the duration of the Reaper War. I crouched between some dull metal panels. They shot a grim reflection back to me that day. My hair, the blond darkened by the rain, was long and straggly matching the beard. Yes, I had a full blown bead at the time. I always hated seeing my reflection. All I could see was my father's face staring back at me. And a version of my Mum's eyes, cold and dead, accusing me of everything I had done wrong .

Except there was something different in my eyes this time.

There was hope.

And although I should have been more worried about the fact that the Council was apparently hunting me down, I was driven only by one desire. The most foolish thing I could ever have wished for in my situation.

I, number one galactic terrorist's son, wanted to find you.

* * *

My demon's were in me from the moment I was born, but only really emerged the day my Mum was murdered.

We were on the Citadel, believe or not, one of the first families to be housed there. My father had been ordered to attend a mandatory debriefing over something he never really explained, but he wanted Mum there with him for reasons I never will know.

I was six years old at the time and despite my father's insistence that I could attend boarding school, my mother had refused to even let me attend regular school during the unrest. And as such, I was brought along.

How can I possible describe the wonder I felt when I first saw the Citadel.

It was frighteningly large to me. And all the aliens! I stuck close to my Mum's side as we tried to navigate our way to the market and back to the tiny apartment we had been assigned. They all gave us a wide berth and stared at us as we walked past. I didn't understand at the time, we weren't the aliens!

Mum always held my hand, but I could always feel that she was dying to rush ahead and explore the whole place. But due to direct orders from my Mum, she was forbidden.

But an adventurer at heart, the day I plucked up the courage to ask if we could go see the pretty lake I heard an Alliance soldier talk about, she didn't hesitate to say yes.

The last day of her life was spent trying to stop me from diving into the water, so I could check if there really were fish in there.

So on the way back home, tired and wet, we became lost. We were considered to lowly to be given omni-tools upon our arrival, but even the cheap translators we were given didn't assist us in asking for directions. Everyone refused to talk to us.

Inevitably, we ended up walking through a seedy warehouse unit. And past three turians.

'Well fuck me sideways. Isn't that one of those pinkies?'

'Yeah, and it looks like it's got its spawn with it.'

My Mum tightened her grip on my hand, but otherwise gave no outwards response to the three drunk gangbangers.

One of the turians stiffened at her lack of reaction.

'Hey bitch! What you think your kind is to good to talk to the defenders of the known galaxy!'

'Yeah!' One of them whined 'You pricks killed my brothers!'

They began to follow us and Mum lifted me into her arms and started to walk faster.

'You know what boys? I reckon we should take a little justice for our brothers!' The one who first spoke stated grimly.

'And I'd like to know if pinkies really bleed red.'

At this, my eyes widened with fear over her shoulder, as the turian men's mandibles twitched into grins and began running after us. Mum had broken into a sprint by then. She was pulling away from them too, dodging and weaving between the storage crates before diving into an open one.

She panted hard, covering my mouth to stop me from crying, while she strained her ears to hear the turians footsteps. At last she set me down, shushing my tears whispering quietly.

'We're ok now Alex; we're ok.'

I just leant into her, crying even more.

'I hate them' I whimpered . 'I hate all the aliens.'

At that she pulled me away from her shoulder and shook me firmly stopping my tears.

'Now you listen to me young man. If those men had been human, would you be crying to me right now telling me you hated the human race?'

I shook my head dumbly at her fierceness.

'Of course you wouldn't. Because that would be silly. Just because one, two or even a million turians had chased us, that doesn't mean that the rest of them are bad people.'

'But Dad said-'

'I don't care what your father said, you listen to me now. Never, ever, judge a someone by an opinion you have of someone else's actions. Most people are just trying to get along in life. Even aliens.'

She softened her tone before quietly finishing.

'One of these days it might be a turian who saves your life.'

'How touching.'

We turned suddenly, recoiling from the three we thought we had lost.

One of them was holding a chainsaw.

'Alex. Get behind me.'

The turian with the saw sniggered at that, patting the machine fondly.

'Anyone would think you were afraid pinkie.'

Mum just stared at them, a look filled only with pity.

'It is you that should be afraid. Killing us... Is a stain that will never come out of your soul.'

The other two turians shifted uncomfortably, but the lead one was too far gone to care.

'Fuck you bitch' He snarled. 'Don't talk to me about regrets. My brothers were murdered. MURDERED! By your filthy kind. And what did the Council do about it? NOTHING! They invited you, rewarded you, when we should have blasted you back to the stone age!'

'And that was my son's fault?'

'IT WAS ALL YOUR FAULT!' He screamed.

He growled softly in his throat, before ripping the chainsaw to life and yanking over his head.

'FUCKING DIE!'

What happened next was surreal. Mum pushed me to the side of the container and I hit it with a thud. I watched as she raised her arm and the saw came down on it, cutting it off at the elbow. She landed at the same time as her appendage, the blood spurted over my face and into my open mouth which had formed a silent scream.

But instead of crying herself, she looked at me with a gaze of fierce peace.

'Close your eyes Alex... Don't look... I love you so much.'

Her last words before the saw came down again, through her head. It was as if a melon had been ripped apart. Pieces of her brain and blood rained down on the three turians as the chainsaw kicked back and sputtered dead.

My mum was nothing more than piece of meat when her body finally slumped to the ground, the rest of her lifeblood emptied onto the floor around me as I crawled towards her.

I rested my hand shakily onto her back.

She had gone.

Gone.

Forever.

A talon grabbed me and ripped me up into the air. The turian who had ripped my mother apart glared down at me with a ferocity of a wild animal. The other two had fled.

'You're not worth the effort of me killing you. Maybe today taught you something about your species place.'

As I glared into his cold and dark eyes, my emotional numbness shattered.

I realised a primal scream so loud he dropped me.

I began to glow blue. It chaotically fluctuated around me both pulling and pushing his body away. His bones creaked and his mandibles bent and snapped. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as his brain seemed to bubble inside his head.

And suddenly, in suspended time, he exploded.

Shattering with him my sanity.

* * *

They finally found me.

After three days of me sitting in Mum's and the turian's blood and brains. I could see the way they looked at me as they cleaned me up and placed me in a small, white, clean room.

I was surrounded by silence, but inside I was screaming.

I've never stopped screaming.

My mind flitted through memories and moments. Reliving again and again.

And again.

Alexander. The defender of man.

Unable to defend at all.

The silent door opened and my father rushed into the room.

Wasting no words at my state, he merely picked me up and carried me through the door into the hall. Alarms began to go off as we were halfway through the building.

He just moved faster.

Like my mother had run.

We made it out a door, and a skycar was waiting for us. He unceremoniously threw me in.

The skycar took off with a lurk, a faceless driver behind the wheel, and my father finally looked at me.

With pure, unkempt, loathing.

'All your power, and you let her die.'

'You are not my son. You are not her son. You are nothing. You become a tool. You will become a weapon. You will be our Cerberus.'

'You will save us all. Because you couldn't save her.'

The mantra that he repeated to me every day for the rest of his life.

I am the son of the Illusive Man.

My name is Alexander Harper.

I am a weapon.

I am Cerberus.

* * *

_**A/N Well what do you think of chapter number two? I love reviews and feedback, so please feel free!**_


	3. Identification

_**A/N Hello again people of the fanfic fold! It's good to know there are people out there reading this!**_

_**I hope you like the new chapter, hopefully they'll be about this length from now on.**_

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

The worst thing about Hell is; you never know that you're there.

Sure, you know it's bad, but you truly believe that you are in the right place. Because the other place, the one with all the happy people, who do little things and earn their rewards tenfold, that's the place you believe to be Hell. You yourself have to struggle and fight and thrash; or fall down and die. But you're told that you are in the better place, because it is through your struggle that you prove yourself.

And every day you try to prove yourself, but you always seem to fail.

And even though you fail and are punished and hated; your guilt ridden soul still clings to the idea that Hell is better than Heaven. Somehow, because you never win anything easily, you are on the moral high ground. Far better to be you, than those who feast on fruits they seem to be gifted so easily.

As a member of this illustrious Hell Club, there is one thing that strikes me as I look back at my time here with all my fellow members.

Not one of us wants to remember what it was that got us here.

* * *

Do you know how there are moments when the world moves so slowly you can feel your bones shifting, your mind tumbling? When you think that no matter what happens to you for the rest of your life, you will remember every last detail of that one minute forever?

Sometimes it's the same moments that take your breath away that breathe purpose and love back into your life.

The biggest moment of my life; was the moment I met you.

The cargo ship I had hopped on stopped at Omega. I spent two days avoiding Aria's goons, it would have done me no good if she had seen me, trying to get some supplies. Aria and I go further back than I care to admit even now. Regardless to say, it did not end well.

Fortunately, with Aria's recent return, the black-market trade was flourishing. I managed to access one of my emergency credit accounts and was able to pay for a new omni-tool, clothes and a single pistol. Most of my money went towards finding a reasonable surgeon.

I needed ID and a new face.

I still had no idea how the Council's fuckers had managed to track me down. When I left my father, I made it impossible for him to find me.

And because he didn't find me, I had no idea what could have been in the Cerberus records to indicate where I was.

It must have been a pretty bloody obvious clue for them to discover it in just two weeks following the war.

Of course it was bloody obvious, but at the time I didn't know that.

Regardless, my number one priority at the time was making sure I wasn't caught by the bleeding council, so a face change and a good strong back story was a must.

After punching a few idiot vorcha out, I finally found my way to a street rep worthy doctor, with half decent facilities. I walked out that place with burning hands and a numb face. I had payed for the whole deal. My hair was cropped short, the cells altered to grow blond like my mother, instead of my father's common brown. My jaw line was altered, my eye shape as well. I certainly looked decidedly more Slavic than when I had first arrived on Omega. He burned my palms clean, and imprinted them with a random set of lines.

Since the doc, if I could even call him that, was also a tattoo artist, he gave me some for free. They were a good idea. Nothing says, I had a life ask me what happened in it, like a couple of semi-obvious tat's.

I must apologise though. That story I told you about the tattoo of the three birds arching across my collarbone? I totally ripped off from a twenty-first century teenage fiction book.

But the red snake that curls around my wrist, as if its cutting off my pulse?

I really did get that one to represent my father.

In the end, I was glad to be rid of my father's features.

Keeping my eyes though... I guess Mum stayed with me longer then you after all father.

But even though I looked different, I needed way in.

I was hell bent on meeting you. Maybe because I knew you knew what I knew about life.

Whatever the hell that is.

But what I really wanted more than anything, was just to see your eyes.

The only way, I figured I was going to get near to you at all, is if I was placed pretty high up in the Alliance. The problem with that was, that nobody would have a clue where I had come from.

The solution was so simple. I had to enter the SAIS mainframe and establish myself as an operative.

The Systems Alliance Intelligence Service, was by far the most obvious choice for myself. The second best security agency in the known galaxy, at the time only beaten by the STG. The Alliance would have to respect my authority, and my classified status. So much so, that if I demanded unappalled access to you, it would be granted with hesitation.

Luck was also with me. Under the guise of a Terra Firma advocate, I had already had extensive dealings with the director-general of the SAIS; Michael Griffiths. In return for his support Terra Firma, by extension Cerberus, had donated... extensively to helping the director retain his position of power.

Michael had been bread to be a spy, both physically and psychologically. He is determined and loyal to his cause. He can be charming, manipulative and persuasive. He is adaptable and very intelligent and has the uncanny ability of reading people very well.

He is a firm believer that the end justifies the means as long as SAIS assets are not endangered. The years as a spy have made him extremely paranoid and generally distrust people, for whom he believes that they always have a secret agenda and as such trust computers over people.

His pragmatism is also the reason why he leaves his operatives a lot of freedom, as long as their actions further SAIS agenda in one way or another.

In other words he knew that he owed me a favour.

The one hundred year old asshole, had survived the war. All it took was a quick call through an encrypted channel and I had my field agent qualifications.

**_Attached-_**

**_NAME: LEX JAMES STYX_**

**_DOB: CLASSIFIED_**

**_POB: CLASSIFIED_**

**_RANK: SPECIAL AGENT_**

**_CLASS: SAIS_**

Maybe it was partly due to my father's impressive list of IOU's, but getting access was far to easy.

You should look into that.

* * *

Not wanting to leave to much of a trail, I decided to hop another cargo ship back to earth. Wedged in between crates once more, I decided that I should spend my time trying to get a feel of what to expect when I met you.

It turns out, according to that day's bulletin, you had woken up and had already released a statement.

You grieved for the fallen. You wished to find your ship, which had gone missing in the aftermath of the battle. You mourned the loss of the geth. You mourned the loss of Admiral David Anderson.

You acknowledged the death of the terrorist known as the Illusive Man.

So the fucker was dead. It was confirmed by two people.

Honestly, I'm surprised I didn't have a bigger reaction.

Sure, back when I had been outside my favourite cesspool bar, the fact that he had probably allowed the failsafe letting those operatives find me pissed me off. But all in all, I really didn't have much of a reaction the second time round it was said out loud to me.

I was far more excited by the fact that you were awake.

That you were alive.

And that maybe, just maybe, I might be able to see you.

My SAIS clearance gave me access to the name of the hospital you were recovering in.

Prince George Hospital, Perth, Australia.

Oh the irony.

It was the same place I was born.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

The foundation of Cerberus was built on the bones of the undeceive.

My father was a charismatic man, able to charm and manipulate with equal ease. I'm sure you are well aware of the Teltin Facility on Pragia? My father needed to have irrefutable evidence of success before he was willing to allow the things they discovered to promote biotic potential on me.

After all, it wouldn't do for Cerberus' biggest weapon to die.

I didn't see my father for ten years after he stole me away from the cold white cell I had been kept in. He handed me over to a crew of nameless scientists who spent the majority of their time poking me for biotic reactions. At the age of eight, they had filled me with enough chemicals and operated on so many times I had the body of a twelve year old.

And the soul of a bitter man.

For a long time all I wanted was my mother. But she was dead. Then I wanted my father, but the only interaction I had from him was a voice recording played over the speakers into my cell three times a day.

**_All your power, and you let her die._**

**_You are not my son. You are not her son. You are nothing. You become a tool. You will become a weapon. You will be our Cerberus._**

**_You will save us all. Because you couldn't save her._**

Even though I didn't see my father for ten years, his was the only voice I heard.

The scientists didn't speak to me.

I was barraged with silent images. Of death and destruction. Of aliens, ripping apart humans.

And finally, of my mother.

Head cut in two, and lying in a pool of gore.

For months, they showed me this image every day. For two months I vomited at the sight.

And so, what I can only presume to be in punishment, they tortured me.

The actual torture is surprisingly vague to my mind. I remember the pain, and the sounds of my screams bouncing off the walls.

And the scars they left, which were removed and then left again.

The day it stopped was when I could stare at the body of the only woman who cared for me, and didn't puke my guts out.

That was the first day they gave me filtered red sand.

I don't know if you've ever done sand, but let me tell you Shepard, nothing beats the first rush of it in your blood. I think that all users are really only trying to regain that first rush.

Of your head feeling so light.

When I was twelve, I killed my first batarian.

I had been trained. The images made sure of that. My senses had been attuned to the smells of war and death. And my body and biotics demanded to be used.

They put me in a room with the batarian.

He had a gun.

And a single voice sounded out over the speakers.

**_You are alone, and come across an armed batarian. What do you do?_**

I charged forward before he could blink four eyes, and biotically punched my hand through his abdomen, wrapping my hand around his spine.

He looked at me with such fear and I couldn't help get a rush, before I pulled my hand back out and his spine with it. He remained collapsed , silently screaming in his own blood before I leaned in and punched his head do hard, his skull splattered.

I then calmly answered the voice.

'I destroy. With extreme prejudice.'

* * *

The cargo ship docked in Paris. I managed to evade most of the security scans, but was finally caught out by a Alliance Private who regarded me with a suspicious expression.

'ID please sir' she gruffly demanded.

I allowed an easy smile to cross my face before allowing her access to my fake identification.

'Of course officer .'

After a few seconds running a verification scan, the private's head turned back to me with a now nervous expression.

'Everything looks to be good here sir!'

I should have thought so. After all Shepard, I was officially inputted into the system.

I suppressed an irritated eye roll, before I allowed another smile to cross my face.

'Thank you Private.'

I began to turn away as the Private began to nervouly natter.

'Ummm... Excuse me sir, but could I offer to organise a transport for you?'

'I don't know.. Can you?'

I couldn't help myself Shepard.

She looked obviously perplexed by this, leaving me wondering just how this bright bulb had managed to survive the war.

I let out a short sigh, before answering again.

'I would appreciate that very much Private.'

* * *

On my way to Perth, with a thankfully much less annoying Private piloting the shuttle, I began to prepare myself mentally for what I hoped to be our first meeting.

I was extremely unprepared for it.

The shuttle had just touched down on the landing pad of the Prince George Hospital when I began to hear raised voices.

The shuttle opened allowing me full view of you wearing a set of stolen doctor's scrubs arguing with Admiral Hackett.

Good start to a bad joke looking back now.

'...there is absolutely no way in hell I'm staying in this fucking hospital one second longer!'

You were red faced and dotted with fading bruises. Your red hair looked like it had seen better days, and the scrubs you were wearing were covered in a liquid of questionable origins.

You were perfect.

I began to slowly walk towards you as you continued your arguement.

'My ship is out there somewhere Hackett. My crew! My people!'

'Stop behaving like a child for two minutes and face reality Shepard. The Reapers are gone, no-one knows how except for you because you refuse to talk to anyone! The geth have blacked out on us completely. Anderson and the Illusive Man are dead and nobody knows how. And until you tell us, I cannot, in good conscience, send you out back to galaxy when you haven't received any help for your clear mental trauma!'

If anything, your face managed to become more red.

'I AM NOT TALKING TO ANYMORE QUACKS YOU SEND TO ME!'

'TOUGH LUCK!'

You looked shocked at Hackett's apparent lack of composure. His face softened at your shocked expression.

He rested a hand on your shoulder and spoke again.

'I'm sorry Shepard. I know how much you want to get back out there. But even with everything else I said... This son... The Illusive Man's son. Well you've read the file and we have the firsthand account of from Miss Lawson. He's dangerous Shepard.'

That perked my ears up a bit. They thought I was some sort of threat?

You merely grumbled though, but visibly calmed.

That's when both of you first noticed me.

Your eyes are a stunning shade of green Shepard. Even though I have my mother's colour, your eyes hold her spirit.

Her fire.

'May we help you?' Hackett gruffly asked, clearly not pleased at the interruption.

I responded quickly, my eyes riveted to yours.

'My name is Special Agent Styx ma'am. I'm here to write a report on you ma'am.'

You regarded me for a second before scoffing heartily and turning your back to march back into the hospital.

'Get in line!' You called over your shoulder before stomping back inside the hospital.

Hackett sighed next to me.

'I'll see to it that you get your report Special Agent. I just hope she doesn't try to escape again, the last thing I need is a call from a very angry Rear Admiral Shepard.' He stated before he too, walked back inside.

I just stood there, struck dumb at the time.

It may sound corny Shepard, but the stain on your shirt?

It was shaped like a heart.

I am the son of the Illusive Man.

My name is Alexander Harper.

And I like your choice in clothes.

* * *

**_A/N Oh just in case you are wondering, I didn't make up SAIS. Check out this link: Mass_Effect_ _**

**_I got all I wrote about it from there!_**

**_I hope you liked the chapter!_**

**_REVIEW PLEASE! I love feedback!_**


	4. Blood

_**A/N I apologise profusely for the delay! I was caught up in writer's block, uni work and band practice. Also, this chapter was extremely difficult for me to write, I felt as if I wasn't doing Alex justice. **_

_**Let me know what you think.**_

* * *

Blood. Sometimes it sets my teeth on edge, other times it helps me control the chaos.

I have no idea how you reacted when they told you. Obviously you knew about Alexander Harper. You knew what he was capable of.

What he was.

But you didn't know what that I was him.

People fake a lot of human interactions, but I feel like I fake them all, and I fake them very well.

Rage though. I understand rage.

And sometimes with you… I feel like I understand love.

But the reason I wanted to find you was more out of a sense of curiosity.

A morbid curiosity with your eyes.

When I first met you for real though, something sparked inside me.

Fondness.

What am I?

I'm not sure.

I could lie again in my writings. And tell you that this fondness for another person. But it wouldn't be true.

And… It would not be fair.

Her name was Emily.

She was one of my instructors during my second phase of training. I was seventeen when we met. She was one of my many numerous biotics instructors. Her eyes were alive, unlike mine and so much like yours. A depleted and unflinching robot. I was a weapon in training and all my instructors treated me as such.

I was alive, because I couldn't save my mother.

And they all saw me as a monster.

Except Emily.

After months of training, she walked me back to my room. Once I knew we were out of sight of the cameras, I pinned her against the wall, and held my forearm across her throat.

'Why do you look at me like you care?'

Her voice was wheezing and her eyes wild, but she answered calmly.

'Because I feel sorry for you.'

I stared into her eyes, piercing her with my gaze as if that would more easily extract the truth.

Then, unexpectedly, she leaned into kiss me.

I am ashamed to admit that this made me drop my guard. And it gave her enough time to throw me with her biotic against the opposing storage closet.

I tensed for a repeat attack, but instead she pressed back against the door and leaned in again.

The noise that came from the storage closet for the next forty-five minutes was unusually loud to say the least.

She was unexpectedly clingy. Arranging meetings and times that we could get together in secret. After three months, she managed to sneak me into her quarters. And that night she leant against my chest and whispered that she loved me.

I simply stroked her hair and whispered back I lie.

'So do I'.

Even though my words were empty, she seemed content and fell asleep.

But in that moment…. There was a fondness.

But the next day, I killed her because my father ordered me to.

I walked in to my training room, to find him standing over a bloodied and beaten Emily.

His eyes pierced mine, and in between her sobs issued one simple statement.

'You are a weapon. Kill her.'

She looked at me with such fear in her eyes and screamed.

But I killed her anyway.

And when silence finally echoed across through the room I felt my father's hand clap my shoulder for a second.

And he handed me a packet of red sand.

* * *

Ever since then, I've felt the call.

Before I killed her, I felt only apathy towards the many aliens that had been lined up before me to be slaughtered. Their deaths were violent, cruel and brutal.

Bloody, sticky and messy.

Lots of exploding bits.

But the sight of the focus of my fondness dead at my feet, with her tongue sticking out of her mouth tripped it. The call said hello that day.

When I turned around, my hand loosely grasping the packet, my father looked in my eyes for something.

He was searching.

Searching for pain? For my sorrow?

Was that why he had done this? Because his only goal left apart from humanity's ascension, was a total destruction of my soul?

But he didn't know.

My soul was gone the moment that chainsaw had hit my mother's head.

He thought he held power over me by asking me to kill her. He wanted to crush and meld me into his weapon.

But Emily's death allowed me to do something I didn't know I could do before then.

I began to enjoy the lives I took.

I cocked my head at his searching gaze and handed the packet of sand back to him.

A grin played over my face at his confusion.

'Now you have to get me a new toy.'

What am I?

I'm a serial killer

* * *

I suppose some people might wonder, how is it possible to be both a professional assassin and a serial killer? The distinction was always in my mind. The people I was asked to kill in the beginning, I tried to make seem like I enjoyed, as if they satisfied the call.

But truly, my personal thirst for blood wasn't satisfied until I chose my target.

I planned quickly and sloppily, but the moment one of my most hated 'doctors' lay dead on the floor with his head exploded, I felt a satisfying release.

I was duly punished through torture for my display of rebellion, but I couldn't help enjoy replaying the vision of his death over and over again.

It might be the case, that you would wish that such a murder wasn't an act of a serial killer, but that is naively wrong.

Because the next time I felt the same release, was three years later at age nineteen, when I murdered a fellow nameless passenger in the back of a illegal transporter.

With no adequate security system, disposing of her blue little bits was simple.

With the help of an air locker.

My father either never found out about that one, or didn't care.

After all, she wasn't human.

But my favourite one, the all time high, was when I killed the leader of the Terra Firma Party.

Claudius Rex had been annoying me for months. As a favour, I had been conscripted out to him by father to help with the party's 'dirty laundry'. The man was a total arse frankly. The xenophobic attitude didn't annoy me nearly as much as him blatant sexism.

The man lived in the 21st century I swear.

The real kicker for me though, was when one of his 'tasks' required me to rape and kill an asari diplomat.

I may be a monster, but I'm not an animal.

Needless to say he was thoroughly… disappointed… that her death lacked the required flair. And, as per my father's instructions as to what to do if I got out of line, had me tortured for two weeks straight.

Planning my revenge while enduring another level of hell was difficult.

The man was constantly surrounded by guards, and was extremely paranoid. He saw death threats wherever he looked. Fortunately for me, he trusted my father and never doubted that I might be a threat.

But still, getting him alone…

The opportunity came fairly soon after my return to work.

He was alone late one night in the office, with only me and another guard there for protection. I had the night planned out. I had planted a small explosive on the level below Rex's office the week before, and remote activated it an hour after the last staff had left.

Rex immediately poked his ratty face outside the door at the sound.

'What was that!?'

The guard, clueless, shook his head as I answered Rex's question.

'An explosion. A floor or two below.'

Rex eyed up his stupid guard with a suspicious look on his face.

'You! Go and investigate.'

'But shouldn't we call the poli-'

'OF COURSE NOT YOU IDIOT! Do you think I want the police sniffing around the building? Just do as I say!'

The guard bumbled off, drawing his pistol.

Rex beckoned me inside his office.

'Weapon, I need you here o make sure I stay safe. After all, what would the cause of humanity be without Clauduis Re-'

I cut him off with a sharp biotic punch to his gut. While he doubled over in pain, I quickly removed his 'hidden' pistol from the side of his leg. I yanked him upright and dragged him over to his desk, slamming him down on top of it. His eyes were wild and crazed as he gazed deliriously at me.

I played with the old fashioned letter opener he kept on his desk, admiring it's smooth metallic surface while he regained his breath.

'So…' I whispered breezily.

'Maybe it's time to see what the cause would be without you, hmmm?'

His breath returned in short sharp breaths.

'No you can't…..do…this! The….Illusi….Illu….Man….WILL KILL YOU!'

I smirked at his growing expression of dismay.

'Death? Death would be preferably to this life. But I find, it constantly eludes me. But it won't elude you, not anymore.'

I slammed my palms on either side of his head, so he faced me upside down. Leaning in, I spat on his face before whispering in his ear.

'Maybe I should rape you first? You seemed to like that idea before.'

'Some…. Asari…. Bitch! Deserv…..she…deser…it!'

I slammed my arm across his throat, preventing him from speaking as he desperately clawed at my forearm.

'And who are you to decide how they should be punished? You say you speak for humanity; did humanity ask for her to be raped and then beaten bloody? Were they the ones who begged me to rip her insides apart? Was that humanity, or was it the voice of a sick little man who has never taken a soul in his life. From a man, pitiful and weak, who has no concept of sacrifice. Maybe I too, have no right to play you executioner. But at least I am honest.'

' I'm killing you because I don't like you, you annoy me. Be proud I guess, I don't always have a reason for my choice in victims. I like to hear their cry's and feel their pain. But only because it's my choice who dies and how. It's my choice and my responsibility. It's my sick perversion. And when the day comes, I will be the one judged for my actions and my call. But you, little man, you disgrace humanity far more than I do. Because you claim an authority that you were never given, and allow it to be an excuse for your actions. Actions, you are too cowardly to perform yourself. '

His eyes slowly began to flutter close, and I released the pressure on his neck, and whispered one final sentence before plunging the letter opener into the middle of his chest.

'You disgrace humanity.'

* * *

Cerberus sent a cleanup crew a few hours after the body was found by the returning guard.

They tracked me down easily to the local bar, knocking back my last drink I didn't resist them injecting me.

Knocked out, I woke up in a familiar training room. Pictures of my mother's exploded head once again all over the walls.

'I thought you were better than this.'

The familiar voice of my father resounded from behind me, and as I turned to look a sharp electric pain forced me to me knees.

'Due to your…regrettable actions, I have been forced to implant you with a series of nanotransmitters which allow me the ability to cause pain ranging from mild…..'

A horrifying shock had me splayed over the floor twitching.

'…to severe.'

He gazed down at my twitching body impassively before unexpectedly slamming his foot down hard on my face.

Hot blood spurted out, blurring my eyes and the sharp pain from my nose forced me to involuntarily open my mouth in pain.

Kicking me again and again, he finally stopped and ranted in a rage.

'Have you learnt nothing! After all at this time? IT WAS YOUR FAULT SHE DIED! YOU COULDN'T SAVE HER! BUT YOU REFUSE TO REPENT BUT DOING YOUR DUTY!'

'YOU. ARE. A. WEAPON.'

A flash of images and emotions ran through my mind. My mother stroking my hair, holding my hand. The feeling of blinding rage as I exploded the turian that killed her. The first and last time I vomited at the images of her body. Emily looking at me with pity, then the sound of her screams. Then, finally, the europhia I felt when I killed my victims. Total peace.

I slowly and shakily returned to my feet.

Wobbling on the balls of my toes, I eyed my father firmly in the eye once again overtaken by my feelings of apathy.

'My name….'

'YOU HAVE NO NAME!'

He reached to shock me again on his omnitool, but was stopped as I biotically slapped him to the floor.

Standing over his now fearful body, I began again with a coil of steel in the words I spoke.

'My name is Alexander Harper.'

'I am the son of the Illusive Man.'

'And I am not your slave.'

_**A/N What did you think? Bit of a character flaw in there somewhere I think. **_

_**Please, please, please! I love reviews. I may not get around to answering them all (something I will rectify from now on) but I would really appreciate more feedback!  
**_


	5. Love

_**A/N I hope you have all been well dear readers. This chapter is out a bit faster than usual (I had to make up for my previous delay!)**_

_**I am very pleased with the amount of follows and fav's I have gotten thus far. Very pleased. I think maybe my pleas for reviews may have had some effect! Tell me what you think about this chapter. As previously stated, I love feedback.**_

_**Best regards, and good reading!**_

* * *

People of late, have looked and viewed me with expressions of horror and disgust. Directed towards my murderous tendencies, I'm sure.

I've never understood it personally. Why people, particularly humans, view murder as so wrong. On the whole, we're a murderous race. According to Genesis, it took as few as four people to make the planet too crowded to stand, and the first murder was a fratricide. Genesis says that in a fit of jealous rage, the very first child born to mortal parents, Cain, snapped and popped the first metaphorical cap in another human being. The attack was a bloody, brutal, violent, reprehensible killing. Cain's brother Abel probably never saw it coming. Whenever I ponder this first murder, I am often filled with a sense of empathic sympathy and intuitive understanding.

For Cain that is.

Why is my killing any more invalid than even yours?

In all of history men have been taught that the killing of men is an evil thing not to be countenanced. Any man who kills must be destroyed because this is a great sin, maybe the worst we know. And then we take a soldier and put murder in his hands and we say to him, "use it well, use it wisely." We put no checks on him. Go out and kill as many of a certain kind or classification of your brothers as you can. And we will reward you for it.

But society has always had a fucked up view of serial killers.

They've never understood that you can't just stop murdering people. Murder is like chips: you can't just stop with one. The addictive thrill of killing someone.

The even more addictive thrill of letting someone live, when you know you didn't have to. Because you had the time, the place and the means to kill them.

Even though you really… really…want to kill them.

I desperately wanted to kill the administrative nurse in charge of your ward.

She had kept me waiting for two hours while she processed my request for access to your room.

Apparently security was still an issue at the time. Apparently so, given the fact that you had nearly escaped four times from the hospital, but still, one would have expected given my top level security clearance (albeit fake assurance) that I could have been through a bit faster.

And yet the stupid man had the audacity to glare at me. As if I was to fault for his inability to process a simple request.

'You really couldn't have arrived at a worse time.'

'It's not my job really. I'm just doing you a favour.'

'Couldn't you come back tomorrow?'

And his incessant clicking as he browsed through his GalacticBook page.

The man was begging to die.

But before I could administer my fully formed plan, involving mild anaesthetic, a bedpan and his selfie obsessed face, the computer finally pinged in completion of its task.

With a short sigh, the drell nurse reached across to read the statement it had issued.

'It seems I can let you go through. That way, to room 2217

I cracked my back and resisted the urge to reply back, but merely nodded and walked towards the direction he indicated.

'Be careful with her! She's a real livewire!'

The biggest understatement of the centaury no doubt.

Passing through two more security checks, I finally made it to your room.

It was decidedly normal looking, no fancy marks or nameplate to indicate your presence. Not even the sound of a music or a vid screen. And yet, I hesitated before knocking on the door.

That was strange at the time, before I met you I never hesitated.

'Come in.'

The door opened silently and I was captivated by you.

You were laying back on your bed, a real book rested in the crook of your arms and surrounded by flowers.

Romance isn't lost on us psychopaths.

You lifted your head and crooked an eyebrow at me.

'You just gonna stand there?'

I lurched towards you suddenly, arm outstretched.

'Special Agent Lex Styx ma'am. I'm here to-'

'Write a report on me. Yes, I remember meeting you on the roof.'

You regarded my still outstretched hand for a second.

'Please. Take a seat.'

I was dismayed by the lack of interest in your tone.

I am not easily dismayed.

That day was one filled with many new emotions.

'Thankyou ma'am.'

'And don't call me ma'am. I'm not your mother.'

Your smile quirked as you said it, but I couldn't help but be struck by its significance. You were not my mother, but you were pretty damn close. I'd never felt this feeling for someone else after my mother died. A feeling far greater than my fondness for Emily. It ached in my heart, as if reminding me of some long lost emotion that should have been there.

It intrigued me.

'So… Mr Styx. What is it you would like to know about me?'

I stared at you for a second in preparation for the start of the answers I first sought, when I first saw your eyes.

You coughed loudly and awkwardly. An obvious statement about my lack of noise.

'Sorry ma'a…errrr…..Commander? I've been tasked to have conduct a range of interviews with you to discuss your personal history, your history in the Alliance, covering broadly the events on Akuze, the missions on the SR1 Normandy, your death, Cerberus, your missions on the SR2 Normandy, your captivity and finally; the Reapers.'

You gazed at me, while I caught my breath, before pinpointing me in a laser like glare.

'Captivity. Why did you say 'captivity'?'

'You were locked up by the Alliance, pending court marshal were you not?'

'Yes, but you said… captivity. Not jailed pending marshall. Like you knew what it really felt like…To be locked up.'

I paused for a moment shocked, but your gaze was unrelenting and I was compelled to answer honestly.

Another rarity for me.

'I do.'

You paused again, still regarding me with your icy glaze. But for some reason, it softened.

'Yes' You stated quietly your gaze trailing off.

'It looks like you know more than even I do.'

Your illogical trailing of thought confused me, was it that hard to remain on topic?

My next question came out rather snappily.

'Where were you born?'

Your gaze snapped back to mine, and this time it was you who looked annoyed.

'Really Special Agent Styx. If SAIS wanted to know where I was born, all they had to do was access public records. I highly doubt those were the sorts of questions they really wanted to be answered. If, indeed, they wanted any questions to be answered at all. Which leads me to question; why are you here Mr Styx?'

Your flipped question gave me pause, before I answered hurriedly.

'I'm here to ask you questions-'

'Then when you come back again, ask a serious one.'

Cutting me off, you returned to reading your book, effectively indicating the end of our interview.

But I was not to be put off so easily. Instead, I remained in the chair I was sitting and stared at you for a good five minutes. It produced the desired effect of annoying you, as your eyes began to dart around sporadically and your mouth tightened before finally…

'I want you to leave!'

I took the time to fold my arms smugly at your expression of ire.

I was starting to enjoy myself.

'I want to ask you some questions. Looks like neither of us are getting what we want today.'

Your eyes narrowed and you fingered your book dangerously, as if preparing to throw it at me.

'Fine' you muttered bitterly raising your finger.

'One….REAL….question….Then you leave me alone for the day.'

'And you promise to answer it?'

'Yes.'

I let the offer hang in the air, before nodding.

'Agreed.'

You adjusted yourself on the bed to face me, before resting your hands against your thighs.

'Ask your one real question then…If you can think of any.'

I pondered for a moment. It was my opportunity to ask you any question. Any question at all.

I didn't have a single question.

I was so obsessed with meeting you. Of finding you, I didn't even have anything to talk to you about. Something to talk about that was….real.

The problem was, that I have never been real.

But you were waiting patiently for my answer.

'What….'

You leaned in to hear the rest of the question.

And as I stared the question that came to my mind was one I was asking myself.

'How do you know you're in love?'

I regretted the half whispered question the second in came out of my mouth, but you didn't laugh or look at me strangely. Instead, you leaned back and pondered it seriously.

'My mother once told me, that love is like the wind. You can't see it, but you can feel it.'

'You don't love someone because they're perfect, you love them in spite of the fact that they're not. It's like a mirror. The other person shows you all of yourself, even the parts you don't like. But the very fact that they know what those parts are shows how much you loved them, to trust them with it. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.'

'You know you love someone truly and deeply, when you make the decision to never look your heart away from them. Even though it could get damaged.'

Your answer left me without air. And you stared at my face with a glazed expression, as if your mind was in a far off place.

The sound of me sucking in oxygen again, snapped you from your revere.

With a pondering look, you issued a final statement before returning to your book.

' Now that; was a real question.'

I exited the room quietly. That feeling in my heart larger then when I had first walked in.

Did I love you?

The administrative nurse stopped the elevator I had caught to exit the hospital.

Hopping in, he released an exasperated sigh.

There was blessed awkward silence, before the idiot ruined it with his rambling.

'Did you remember to sign the final exit security papers?'

I closed my eyes in frustration, before allowing the call to take over.

The remains of the drell were found the next day. The police concluded suicide.

Really, I was doing the Galaxy a favour.

* * *

My father never believed in wasting an opportunity. Where others saw a means to destroy, my father saw a means to control-to dominate and to harness. But he always knew, that humanity's place in the universe was more fragile than we liked to think. Strength for Cerberus was strength for every human. Cerberus was humanity.

An ideal. A vision.

And I was to be the weapon that rose us above everything. I was the sacrifice towards ascension

And I was sacrificed.

Torture covers many things. My father's favourite torture for me though, was guilt.

Guilt is cancer. Guilt will confine you, torture you, destroy you as an artist. It's a black wall. It's a thief.

But I found strength in the midst of all the shit.

Sure, its kind off fucked up that I retained my sanity by becoming a murdering psychopath. But it helped me compartmentalize and helped me learn a valuable lesson about the power of my mind. In the end, my father could chain me, could torture me, could rip apart my body, but he could never really imprison my mind.

* * *

I found a room, later that night, in a dark a dingy motel that was somehow still standing and operational. But I found that I couldn't fall asleep, and was left staring at the ceiling.

I'd never felt like that before.

There was of course, the lingering after effects of the kill, but that wasn't what kept me up.

No...It was the thoughts of love and life.

And your face.

And your eyes.

I am Alexander Harper.

I am the son of the Illusive Man.

And I have problems confronting my feelings.

* * *

_**A/N REVIEWS! REVIEWS! REVIEWS! Sorry...I just thought maybe some people are skipping the A/N's, so I thought I would make it blindingly obvious about how much I enjoy getting feedback on my writing! Regardless of whether you review or not. Even if your one of those people who never reviews, fav's or follows but still diligently reads the story (come on, we've all done that!) I still appreciate it.**_

_**Makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.**_


	6. Evil

_**A/N Hello again readers! Sorry I'm a little late again, I had a very busy week. So, no more waiting.**_

_**READ ON!**_

* * *

My father was a fan of the shock therapy for a while.

It left me excruciating pain, and my mind felt it was going to snap in half. Everyday three, times a day for three years.

In-between these courses, I had litres of chemicals injected into my brain feeding images into my brain. Then I was let loose in my old training room.

Simulated combat situations mostly.

When the N7 program was first set up, the drug the injected me with was considered too dangerous to use on recruits.

Too dangerous, for the N7 program.

It leads to psychotic episodes, murderous tendencies, paranoia and schizophrenia.

Fred has been in my head ever since.

Just kidding Shepard.

That being said, I fought in every environment imaginable. To this day, I still don't know if my brief murderous stint on a batarian pirate ship was real of simulated. All the prisoners that were on the ship had already been injected with control chips and I was ordered to terminate.

I hesitated, and one of the slaves cut my arm off with a sharp metal shard.

My right arm is cybernetic, but whether it was cut off by an actual slave, or one of my father's minions in a simulation I have no idea.

Either way, I learnt my lesson surely. It was cemented in my brain over and over again.

Hesitation kills.

It killed my mother and it killed Emily.

It kills all my victims who always hesitate in fear in the moment they might escape me.

Hesitation equals death.

I would go so far as to say that death is final, but given that I'm talking to you I can hardly spout that statement off.

I loved it and hated it though.

The death was beautiful, the blood glorious.

But they weren't my kills; they were my father's and therefore, they were unsatisfying.

My father must have sensed this, and I think in an effort to get me more aboard his crusade, he offered me one kill of my own.

* * *

I was set down in the cargo bay of Teratha. The capital of a turian colony called Naravet.

No weapons, no ID and no money.

But I was finally able to stalk again.

I picked my target at the local park. She was feeding the birds with her children and partner. Laughing and playing with them.

One of the kids looked old enough to be in high school. She ran her talon over his mandibles fondly.

And he jerked away with a look of disgust on his face.

'I'm to old for that Mum. Stop it!'

The ignorant little shit.

With a look of devastation, her talon dropped back to her side.

That boy didn't realise what he had in a mother.

A live, caring, feeling mother.

My first thought was to kill him, the boy didn't deserve to live for his act of shame. But that would be a terrible option. She obviously loved him, so she would miss him if he died.

And I wouldn't want to put her in pain.

But him…. He deserved to feel the loss.

I killed her quickly.

The next day I pretended my skycar had broken down along her usual route to work. Being the woman she was, she stopped to help. I drew her into the alley, and biotically snapped her neck.

Quick and easy.

She didn't even know she had died.

Riffling through her pockets I found an actual hard copy photo of her family. She must have really loved them to get a hard copy to carry with her.

Right next to her heart.

I left it open on her chest, a circle of her blood traced around her older son's face and a line of script.

**YOUR FAULT**

I watched from afar as the family was informed.

The eldest boy cried his eyes out.

I took a snapshot of the scene and sent it to all the family's omnitools before I scarpered with a final line.

**AREN'T YOU A BIT OLD FOR THAT?**

* * *

I returned from my kill calmer than I had ever been .

My father requested a meeting with me, and I was to be spared the torture of the shocks for a day.

He kept me waiting for four hours, I have no idea why. Maybe he thought it would annoy me. But for me, blessed silence was a gift.

He finally allowed me into his office; the star behind him burning and churning.

Blue vs Red

Good vs Evil

Becoming some so much more than either trait could be by themselves. Becoming a force to be fear and loved with equal pain and admiration.

There was a chair waiting for me next to him, and he gestured silently for me to sit pointing with his cigarette smoke.

I sat in silence and stared at the star.

'Do you want a drink?'

I turned at his question and looked at him with a querying look in my eyes. His hair was matted with sweat and his eyes glazed over with alcohol.

One hand shakily holding out a full glass of bourbon.

I accepted it slowly, holding it gingerly. He stared at me, burning me, until I took a sip.

The taste rolling off my tongue, I let out a groan of appreciation.

My father laughed, but no smile touched his face.

'It's the good stuff, I assure you.'

He lit up a second cigarette and handed it to me.

We smoked and drank in silence for a long while, before the first question rolled off his lips.

'Claire…Your mother…. She hated that I smoked.'

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. His face looked sad.

And there it was….A tear.

His eyes snapped to mine, burning into them.

'She would kill me for what I've done to you.'

I couldn't reply. My mouth was dry and my lips seemed glued together.

'She loved you so much. She loved you….. She loved you more than me.'

'And I've hated you for it… Since the day you were born. When you killed her…. It was your fault, because you could have saved her. She loved you so much and you didn't save her.'

'That's why you have to become the weapon. To attone, to redeem…. To be an ideal. But I've made you into something that I'm not sure I can control. That makes you a liability. And you know what I do to liabilities.'

I tensed in my seat, biotics buzzing.

'Calm down' He gestured 'I can't kill you.'

I hesitated, before I asked.

'Why can't you. Why didn't you…..just kill me?'

He stared into my eyes, deeply and sincerely.

'Because I see her every time I look at you. Her fight…Her spirit….Her will to survive…Her eyes.'

I paused in caution, before I reached out with my hand to touch his arm.

He didn't flinch. He relaxed at my touch.

'You even touch me the same way… '

I jerked my hand away. A feeling of anger overtaking me.

Standing, I threw the dregs of my drink into his face.

'You always told me that it was my fault she died. Was it my fault we were left alone to walk the Citadel? My fault I was a child? My fault she loved me? My fault? You took me from a cell, covered in her blood, her death burning in my eyes. You told a six year old boy he was a weapon for twenty five years, and now you expect me to what, forgive you?'

'I will never forgive you.'

Standing himself, he released a brutal wave of agony through my skull.

On my knees again, tears coming to my eyes, his face was a storm of rage and he slapped me across the face three times.

'I DON'T WANT YOUR PITY!'

'Good' I ground out through gritted teeth.

'And when you die, you won't get my mother's either.'

* * *

At the end of my three years of re-training, I was deployed back into the field. I became security detail on loan for my father's 'friends'. I was a terrorist, blowing up and destroying cities and spaceports. I infiltrated the Citadel political circles, and was even loaned out to some more…. Promiscuous….politicians in exchange for favours.

Let me tell you; Donnel Udina had some fucked up fantasies.

For years I built and learned and destroyed and fucked.

Drinking and killing and thinking and fighting.

I was even the top mercenary in the Terminus for a while.

I got very close to Aria for six or so months. So close, I could tell you where all her tattoos are. When she figured out I was spying on her, she even came to kill me in person.

I must have left an impression I guess.

All the while though, my personal kill count kept stacking up.

Double killings, bombings, beheadings….I tried them all. All the while to scratch my itchy Call.

Death was my life, was my soul.

I'm not a tragic hero. There is blood in my ledger that was totally innocent and I knew it. I killed them because I liked it and I could. And sometimes, I even sought the innocents out.

They died so much better than the guilty, because they were so clueless. They didn't make the assumptions that their actions led them to their fate. They just panicked and cried. Scared and afraid and weak with fear.

And their death served no purpose or logic. They didn't die because they fit a rule or a code. They just died, because I wanted them to die.

And the hold a life in your hands is an amazing thing. The feeling of control and fragility is….. beautiful.

Sometimes, when I missed the thrill of it to much to bear, I just listened to the beating of my own heart.

Its soothing, because it proves that I am not a God.

I am mortal too.

My heart is just as easy to break.

* * *

Evil isn't born…. It's made

Sometimes, when the hours of the day draw to a close, I do think about my father. By anyone's definition, including mine, he was evil.

But he couldn't have always been that way.

What was it that made him so twisted? Was is really my mother's death?

Was it really me?

Am I the reason for all the pain that Cerberus wrought?

Evil….

A weapon of evil.

* * *

To quote Aristotle:

"Anybody can become angry — that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way — that is not within everybody's power and is not easy"

He definitely knew what he was talking about. I wonder if he was a serial killer too?

Anger is funny I admit. Some feel it hot and raging, others slowly like a volcanic build up. But for me, it has always been large and never-ending. I am always angry, but it simmers deeply, so deep I only feel it when I reach my peak of rage. When I kill, or when I talked to my father.

I hated him, and yet I feel nothing at all.

He destroyed me, but what he made me is all I know. And how can I hate what I am? I am destructive and violent. I can tear apart ships and colonies without blinking. Or at least, I could.

Then I met you.

You don't believe it, I understand its hard. How can a person with much rage and turmoil and absolutely no regard for life except my own suddenly feel….. regret?

But you have a power over people Shepard. You light fires that cleanse the galaxy. Your chaos and destruction is so positive it is scary to watch. You sweep across the stars, you and your ideas. Your thoughts cure and heal things and people that were incurable. And when your heart beats, it provides life to the galaxy. The universe only stands today because of you.

Everyone is alive because of you.

My life….. My soul and my heart.

They exist only for you.

I would die for you.

I would kill for you.

I breathe for you.

You think you don't know me anymore, but the truth is Shepard, you know me better than anyone.

Please…. I love you.

And you said you loved me to.

I am Alexander Harper.

I am the son of the Illusive Man.

And I miss you.

* * *

_**A/N What do we think? Type a review, send a PM, favourite, follow... Whatever you feel like. I like feedback, so if you have any I'd love to hear it. I'm actually really interested to hear how people view Alex. So...Type your opinion!**_


	7. Laugh

_**A/N Another chapter up and atom! Anyone notice that I changed the cover picture of this fic? Would you believe that I was able to create that just on Microsoft Word and Paint? Who knew eh. Anywho... Onwards we shall charge!**_

* * *

The second day I came to your hospital door, you had a visitor. The nurse behind the desk today was noticeably more friendly than the body I had disposed of. I walked down the hallway with no trouble and I was just about to knock on the door when I heard the voice.

'….I cannot believe this! This was the third time this week that you tried to break out of the hospital!'

'Come on Mum! I need to get out of here. Its driving me nuts staying here when I should be out there looking for my crew and my ship!'

'Your crew is here.'

'Some of them yes, but not Joker. Not EDI. Not Kaidan-'

'I should have known_ he_ was the reason for all this nonsense. I can't believe after all this time, after the way he treated you, that your still in love with him. Don't tell me you slept with him again?'

'MUM!'

'Well did you?'

There was a long pause, before you sadly replied.

'What was once between us….. It was over a long time ago. But he is still my crewmate and so are the others. I can't abandon them.'

I heard a soft sigh followed by a squeak of the bed shifting under weight.

'Honey…. You don't even know if they are still alive.'

'Nobody thought I would survive what I went through, but I'm still here. Alive and kicking.'

'And as stubborn as ever. I was never like this with my mother, I've no idea we're you got it from.'

'Oh? Is that why Gran doesn't talk to you?.'

'Oh shut up.'

There was another long period of silence, before your mother's voice sounded again right next to the door.

'I really need to get going, but please. Think about what I said. I'll be back on Friday to-'

The door whooshed open in front of me, exposing a startled middle age red head.

I quickly apologised.

'I'm sorry ma'am if I gave you a start. My name is Lex Styx. I'm the Special Agent interviewing the Commander.'

Your mother responded with a kind smile and a firm handshake in hello.

'It's very good to meet you Agent Styx. I hear that this is your second interview with my daughter. The first you left unscathed. I must say, I am impressed. Usually "Commander Shepard" throws a chair after ten minutes at anyone who tries to interview her.'

'You do know I can hear every word your saying right?'

The Rear Admiral smirked at you, giving me a wink.

'Of course dear. I was simply interested to know the reason why you are allowing such a good looking and polite young man to stare at you for long periods at a time.'

You flushed bright red, and sputtered indignation.

'I would…. I would never…..EVER…..With a spook? Never!'

Hannah shrugged her shoulders before replying cheekily.

'I seem to recall another boy you would NEVER date. What was his name? Simon? Samson?'

'Samuel' You muttered bitterly.

'Aha! That's the one! Didn't he end up being your first…errr…..roomate?'

You shook your head vehemently .

'I find you extremely annoying sometimes.'

'Well I raised you, so we'll call it square.'

Hannah turned back to face me and walked through the door with a salute, that I responded to in kind.

'Have fun kids.'

The door closed with a sharp snap, and I could feel your stare on my back.

I grabbed a chair and sat down again in my previous spot. Your face was puckered in a grimace and your eyes dared me to be dangerous.

'So…..' I started slowly with a wide grin.

'Sleep well?'

A spark of humour lit in your eyes, finally overcoming the distasteful expression on your face.

'Not to badly. And yourself?'

I nodded several times before replying in a lazy drawl.

'Just fine pussycat.'

You looked shocked at the phrase, but merely narrowed you eyes before replying in a sickly sweet voice.

'Oh I'm so glad sugarplum!'

You held my gaze for a few seconds, before you broke out into laughter.

The sound rolled around the room and rung through my head. Deep and throaty, it reached in an ground at my being. Corny, I know, but it just felt so…..Normal. Scraping away at layers and layers of walls that had been placed around my emotions. It was the moment that a small shard fell away and I suddenly felt….Lighter.

And for the first time in twenty-nine years, I laughed as well.

We laughed until we reached hysterics, past the point of remembering what we were supposed to be laughing at. Laughing and crying, in desperation and frustration and anxiety. Laughing, because that's all that was left to do.

I laughed, joyously, because it was the first time in years that I had.

'Ha ha ha….. No, don't make me laugh anymore!' You cried doubling over in your bed, tears streaming down your face.

'It wasn't even that funny!'

'No?' I giggled manically. 'Then why are you laughing?'

'Because' you whispered slowly; hiccoughing slightly.

'Because I needed to.'

I stopped my chuckling at your serious tone. Your face wore the mask of humour, but your eyes betrayed you. And in them, I saw myself.

A broken and damaged soldier.

Silence followed after the sound subsided. It was awkward and tense and you must have felt it too because you shifted uncomfortably in your bed.

'So' You started again briskly, as if what had just occurred hadn't happened at all.

'What are your intelligently insightful questions today Mr Styx?'

'Please' I stopped you 'Call me Lex, Commander.'

You paused, cocking your head slightly to the side as if you were a bird inspecting a worm, wondering whether to eat it.

'Was that a question?'

'No' I grinned back 'Merely a humble request.'

You snorted at that.

'I can think of many ways to describe you Lex, but humble is defiantly not the first word that springs to my mind.'

My ego twinged slightly at the insult, but I let it past as you had done as I requested. I opened my mouth to start my series of questions when you interrupted me.

Interrupted me again.

'However, If I must call you Lex then I insist that you call me Shepard.'

'Not your first name?'

Your gaze flickered slightly before answering firmly.

'Just….Shepard.'

The silence between us insured again, before I broached the elephant in the room.

'Alright Shepard. My first question is this; Why is it whenever you are mentioned in the media, and even whenever someone talks to you in person, you are never referred to by your first name?'

You looked annoyed at my question and tried to deflect it with one of your own.

'How do you know that nobody calls me by my first name?'

I shot back a return question just as quickly.

'Who?'

You opened your mouth again to answer but then hesitated. Eventually a look of sadness crossed your face before you turned your sight to look out the window of your room.

With your head turned just so, I could see the start of a rather wide scar running down the right side of your neck. I resisted the urge to touch it, my fingers twitching, until you turned back to face me.

'My father.' You said simply.

I frowned at your response. In all of the reports I had read regarding your background, not one of them mentioned your father. Even your birth certificate had the label UNKNOWN next to the spot. I had merely assumed a one night tryst on your mother's part must have resulted in your conception and didn't think more of it.

You nodded at my confused expression.

'Your father? I didn't know you knew-'

'Yes, I know you didn't. Not many people do.' You cut in acidly.

I recoiled at the venom in your voice before raising another question slowly.

'What exactly-'

'It's classified I'm afraid. Top clearance only. I must say, I'm surprised given you job to debrief moi, that you weren't completely informed.'

I bristled at your dismissive tone of voice, but before I bit back my own toxic reply I paused. The expression on your face was not one of derision, but rather a look of anger, pain and a deep sadness. I knew that feeling well from my time in the torture chair. A sense of deep confusion and loss towards the man who was supposed to be my father.

I gathered my courage before responding in a emotional clipped tone of voice.

'Father issues?'

Your eyes snapped to view my grim expression before nodding in assent.

'You too?' You questioned delicately.

I held your inquisitive gaze, before allowing myself to unashamedly answer your question.

'My father….. Was never the same after Mum died. He wanted revenge, and sought it by raging at the galaxy and everyone in it. Anyone he viewed as being….. wrong.'

'In his eyes…. In his eyes, I was wrong. Why should I have survived, when my mother didn't? The useless child he never really wanted. No…. My father and I never saw eye to eye regarding his treatment of me. We became estranged… My choice I admit but really when I left we hadn't had a relationship before that. I didn't talk to him again though.'

'He died, during the war.'

During my reveal I had been unable to hold your gaze, my eyes turned down towards my clenched hands.

A burst of fire ripped through them as I felt your heavily scarred, but beautifully clean, hands placed over them. I tore my vision away, so that I could look at your eyes.

Saddened and welling deeply with an emotion I couldn't place.

'I'm sorry for your loss Lex.'

'Why?' I replied candidly. 'I'm not. He was fighting with Cerberus'

Your face twitched at this, and for a moment I thought I felt a hint of suspicion cross your face before it disappeared again.

'Sometimes Lex, the people that matter the most to us. The ones that effected and shaped us deeply and were the ones that damaged us the most. Those are the people's deaths who hurt us the most. It doesn't change the fact that what they did was wrong. Or even mean that they loved you. But they shaped you regardless. And they made you into who you are today. Faults and all.'

Yeah, I thought sarcastically. Like minor fault of being a serial killer.

Mind you, I liked being a serial killer.

I squeezed your hands gently, a mask of relief playing across my face.

But you merely frowned at what I thought was the emotion you desired from me and tore your hand away from my grip.

'Was there anything else you wanted to ask me?' You asked in a curt tone.

My expression wavered, replaced with a look of annoyance at your impertinent question. Your lips twitched into a satisfied smile, as if you had caught me out proving an assumption you had made about me. For a second, my eyes narrowed. Had you discovered who I really was?

'I love getting under a Spooks skin. It so much fun to see the expression on your face when you realise you failed at playing me.'

I relaxed slightly in my chair before replying again darkly.

'My father….Is undeserving of anybodies sympathies. He was a twisted man, who deserved the fate he chose.'

You became contemplative at that, twirling a strand of hair about in your finger.

'I was brought back to life by Cerberus you know, and worked with them besides.'

I shook my head sharply at that and responded swiftly.

'You had legitimate reasons-'

'Let me finish' You said raising a hand for me to pause.

'I answered directly to the Illusive Man during that time and I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt, that he believed what he did was right. Many members of the organisation did as well.'

I froze in my seat at the mention of his name, but if you noticed you didn't comment instead continuing on with your train of thought.

'But regardless. He brought much pain and anger to many people. And performed or sanctioned despicable actions. But at the end of it all, he broke away from his delusions long enough to see that what he was doing was going to end up defying his one moral principal. And rather than see his actions cause the destruction of humanity, he killed himself. His one final act, was entirely selfless.'

My mind whirled at this new information. I had thought that he was shot by you, dying ironically muttering his idiotic beliefs. But this wasn't the case.

He killed himself…. To save us all?

I cleared my throat, which had gone bone dry, before you finished your sentence.

'It just goes to show, that even the criminal of us all, retains the ability to care and thus, is deserving of some sympathy.'

Even if that caring was never shown before? Even if his entire life was devoid of empathy even for his own son?

Even if….Even if what he had created had more evil inside, than even his father could contain.

'Hey Lex, you ok?'

I broke away from my silent deliberations to glance at your raised eyebrow.

'Yeah.' I muttered, running my fingers through my hair.

'You just….gave me a lot to think about.'

You smiled at that and responded kindly.

'I understand. Why don't you go home and rest. We can continue this tomorrow.'

Nodding vaguely I stood and walked towards the door. As I reached the doorframe my thought sharpened rapidly halting me in my place. Slowly I turned on the spot to look at you. You fought to contain the ripples of laughter as they vibrated silently through your chest.

'You….You…You….' I spluttered out as you suddenly released a peal of giggles through the room.

'You played me! You played on my emotional state! You made out like you controlled the interview, not me' I exclaimed surprised and irritated.

Slowly, a coherent answer escaped your lips as you beat your hands down on the bed like an excited little girl.

'To be fair Lex, you never had a chance of manipulating me!'

My ears burned red as I huffed out of the room and down the corridor, the sound of your laugh following me.

And I couldn't help it.

A smile touched my face.

I am Alexander Harper.

I am the son of the Illusive Man.

And I find you to be delightful.

* * *

_**A/N Soooooo...what did we think? Good or bad? I've been experimenting a bit this week with my writing style so I wonder if that had any effect on the chapter... Anyway, let me know what you thought and whether you like the new cover pic. **_

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